


Down, Boy

by ScriptrixDraconum



Series: Steel and Roses [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Male Masturbation, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Other, Sexual Fantasy, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 21:44:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3585150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScriptrixDraconum/pseuds/ScriptrixDraconum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Esmé Cousland stumbles upon Alistair's desires for her and receives a rather honest eyeful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down, Boy

“ _You_ are positively _filthy_ , young man.”

Potato cocked his head, and his ears twitched up as he contemplated what I had said. Finally understanding, he whined, sulked, and started towards the shallow creek not far from camp where he could wash himself, at least for the most part. I had to help a little, naturally. Not that I minded. Potato was my charge as much as I was his… and I didn’t exactly smell like a rose, either.

I shoved my relatively clean bedclothes into a sack before placing my soap, rag, and towel on top of them. The day’s warmth still clung to the land, for which I was thankful. Like the others, I had left my cloak with Bodahn. The southern lowlands of Ferelden hardly required fur clothing, and Bodahn had an ox-drawn cart to haul our various equipment and treasures around.

We found a nice bend in the creek, concealed from camp by brush and low branches. I wasn’t worried about being ambushed – Potato would have smelled something coming from miles away.

I was finally getting a good workup of suds in my hair when Potato stopped moving entirely, ears up, looking down the creek towards something. I remained calm and finished washing my hair, but continued to eye the area Potato was watching.

Finally rinsed, I crouched beside my dog. “What is it, boy?”

The hound chuffed. Whatever was out there was not a threat, but was certainly of interest to Potato. When he sat down, I knew for sure that we were not under attack.

“Is it a deer?” I asked him as I worked up more suds for my wash rag.

No answer.

“A rabbit?”

“A person?”

Potato turned to me and chuffed again.

A person.

“Is it someone from camp?”

Relieved, I finished washing, scrubbing myself free of darkspawn and bandit blood, and rinsing grit from places one should never experience grit.

As I packed up my things, I watched Potato. He was still very interested in whatever was going on down the creek. Ever guilty of a curious mind, I decided to head down to see what had my dog so captivated. The further I walked, the more I could make out the sounds of a struggle. Not a big struggle, more like the kind of fight one might have with a tightly-corked wine bottle. Grunting, mumbling, and various other unintelligible sounds of frustration.

The creek became somewhat bigger and rockier the further downstream I walked, becoming what one might call a babbling brook. Over the faint drone of gurgling water, I could make out very clearly the same grunting I had been hearing for several minutes now. I looked down to Potato, patted him on the head to get his attention, and used a hand signal ordering him to stay put, and stay silent.

Spying on people wasn’t exactly a hobby of mine, but something about the sounds I was hearing were… familiar. Gilmore always said my curiosity would get me killed. Perhaps he was right. Nevertheless I was drawn to the source of these sounds, and was too close now to turn back.

It was dark, but whoever was just beyond the brush in front of me had brought a lantern, as had I. I bent down close to the young branches and leaves and pulled them apart slowly, creating a small window. When I saw whom it was creating the noises, and what the person was doing, I bit my tongue to prevent myself from gasping.

Alistair was alone, naked, wet from bathing, and sparkling like a pale flame in front of his lantern. The grunts I had been hearing came from him, a reaction to the pleasure he was giving himself. I knew I should have backed away and faded into the night, but I was locked in my position, gawking at the scene before me. Before I confirmed that he was alone I had thought perhaps he was with Leliana, whom he had been rather friendly with since meeting. His only companion, however, was his right hand.

I had to admit, I felt a familiar twinge in my loins as I watched him pull at his own. I was about to leave, finally freed from enrapture, when a very loud moan stopped me in my tracks. It was followed by an entirely unexpected word – my name.

“Esmé…. Esmé…. Esmé….”

I froze again, feeling a mix of horror and excitement. Potato shuffled quietly to my side and brushed against my leg. Alistair moaned my name several more times. Too many times. Potato had become riled up, and answered Alistair’s call with a piercingly loud bark.

 _Bad boy!_ I hissed inside my head before silently chastising myself and running away from the scene of my petty crime.


End file.
